Thunderhead
by Oriel Q
Summary: What would happen if Tris met a accidental visitor from Tortall? Centres around Tris and Numair/Daines third child! Can their two worlds join together to battle a fierce enemy? Rated T for some language/violence/romantic adrenaline rushes in later chaps..
1. Chapter 1:The Gathering Storm

AN: I DO NOT OWN THE RIGHTS TO _**ANY **_CHARACTERS OR PLACES IN TOMARA PIERCES WORLD . NOTHING. NOWHERE. NO ONE. ( Any cahracters you do not recognise from the books are mine. Garian for example. and the sheep... OOPS Spoiler..lol) This is my first Fanfic. PLEASE R&R!

Trisana gazed out of the window, her hair loosely curled around her face

Trisana gazed out of the window, her hair loosely curled around her face. The vacation had been a good idea. Briar was constantly bringing girls home. Girls that squealed when Tris played with her little sparks, or shook when they discovered the winds that curled around her like cats to a fire. And Sandry had recently had a number of well-to-do merchants sons and heirs and a few young noblemen call on her. She never let them entertain the thought of anything more than friendship except for a select few silk merchants with who she had formed an almost inseparable bond. And Daja, though she didn't bring anyone home, was recently seen walking around with a jeweler in the market place. Tris couldn't handle the romantic aura of home and left, soaring off to the south, and the cooler shores of the Stepping Stone islands, where the heat of passionate romance didn't linger. There was only rain. And sheep. Lots of rain. Lots of sheep. If not for the rain and sheep, the stepping stone islands might have had a booming tourism industry, but alas. It did rain. And there were sheep.

"It looks like another storm." Tris mumbled to herself. This was another reason she chose this place as her summer living space. She could feel the rush of adrenaline as the heated sky mingled with the cold oceanfronts. " Better go up to the tower now." she sighed. The last of her 'experiments' with weather had frightened a flock of wet, rained on, sheep and got her a scolding from the herder who had to gather them all up again. Now she preformed her 'arcane foolishness' in an old abandoned watchtower on a rocky cliff face. She heaved another sigh as she trotted down the stairs from her room and through the banquet hall.

" Are you going out Miss?" Tris turned. A maidservant dithered at her elbow, eyes large. " I won't begrudge you your walk Miss, but the sky has turned and the sheep are running. Bad omen, sheep running,'tis. Means a right nasty piece of work storm be setting to our heading." Tris sighed and forced a smile. The locals had a very thick accent and rough speech and mixed their words around such that even a merchant's daughter like herself, used to all sorts of speaking, could not fully decipher it.

"If you mean the weather is fouling than be assured that I am the only person you can bet 100 on being fine." Saying so, she stepped outside. Black clouds rolled in, the banks of green, dewy grass shadowed by the ominous presence. Tris strode forward, her hair tossing about like it had a mind of its own. She could feel the heart of this storm. The burning desire of the lightning and the dreaminess of the rain. The lightning sought a point to strike, homing in on the scraggly foliage of a farmer's orchard. She steered it off its course. It chose a boy shepherd, running with his flock of drenched sheep to their pasture and his home. She flicked it off again with her mind, like shooing away a fly. It took interest.

It shot out and struck her. She chuckled softly, playing with the feeling in her mind. The white-hot heat burnt the grass at her feat, sizzled in the drenching rain and scorched the sky. It fed itself into her, it being encapsulated by her small mortal form. Tris laughed soaringly to the sky, her spectacles blurred with droplets, her breathe quick and fast. Distantly she heard the scream of the maid faraway in reality. Then suddenly, like one blows out a candle, it stopped. Tris whistled low under her breathe. This storm was fierce. Its attention was undivided. It focused on the island alone. She folded her arms and glared at the oppressing sky.

'Oh no you don't youngster'. Tris thought to the clouds. 'You may be fresh and spunky but you're not going to frighten this lass, oh, no. You are going to turn around right now and head to that open ocean right there. Now.' The clouds shivered under her might, the essence of her magic pulling it like a dog on a leash. ' You are going to that stretch of cool, empty water, and you are staying there. Or I will spank you like the little brat that you are. Your not ten minutes old and your already full of yourself. I've beat storms that you couldn't even imagine comparing yourself too. You're 120 years too early.'

With each mental blow, the storm shrank back ward, the force of her magic and her thoughts dragging it out to sea. She sighed then, and strode off towards the watchtower. Out on the ocean huge waves formed, as an adolescent storm vent its energy upon the waters of the channel.

Trisana relaxed against the cool stones at the top of the watchtower, breezes licking her cheeks. The Storm had moved even further south, to heave the open ocean into turmoil. From there, they moved west, to the Uncharted Lands. Nobody could brave those waters and survive. She had strained herself for the past hour, keeping a constant watch for whispers or images on the wind of drowning sailors or overturned vessels. The worst was a coracle that overturned on the beach and squashed a young boys toe. That was all. She was content to let her attention slip, and shut her eyes for a few minutes. Just a few...

:Tortall:

Numair hurried across the deck of the ship, his sleeves trailing behind him in the fierce wind.

" Garian! Garian get down from there! If your mother knew I had let you go gallivanting around in the riggings in this weather, she'd turn into a rhino and run me over! IF you don't behave you can go back to home and practice meditating for hours on end with her and siblings!" the young boy gasped and scrambled down from his precarious position.

" You wouldn't dare! Rikash and Sarra like that but I hate it! I want to see things Da! I want to experience them!" Garian strode over to Numair, scowling "I'm 19! How much older do I have to be before mother thinks I'm not a china doll! I have the same aptitude at magic that you do and I can communicate with animals! So what if I can't shape shift?! It doesn't mean I'm going to die!"

The sailors all sighed and went about their work. They had heard this speech several times since they left port, and they were betting it wouldn't be the last time either. 'Young Master Garian' was very blatantly obvious about what he wanted to do. And he told everyone around him as much as he could. The whole reason he was on the exploration was because he blew up a storehouse and was running around taunting officials all day. They had hired onto this ship wanting to explore the Cape of Carthak and the Eastern and Southern Seas. It was supposed to be a hot sunny, relaxing journey, with blue skies and singing birds. But the warm tropical Carthaki air had brewed a most terrible storm. Even Master Numair couldn't control the weather to that degree without consequences. And a sickly mage was not a pretty sight.

" Masters! We suggest ye stow yourselves in yon cabins for a wee bit while we handle this storm. Tis the least we can do for ye!" The captain, a redheaded woman of mid thirties, leaned down across the helm. " I think its turning to a nasty sort 'tis!"

AN: Thanks for reading. If I get a good response I'll post the next little bit!

-M. Oriel


	2. Chapter 2: The Breaking of the Storm

AN: I DON'T OWN TOMARA PIECE ANYHITNG! If I did would I be here writing this?

Thank you to IWOBYD,tasha642, and Kate of Carlay for their reviews! they mean so much to me!

In the sea just south and east of Carthak the sky turned an ugly gray green hue

In the sea just south and east of Carthak the sky turned an ugly gray green hue. Startling flashes of white-hot lightning scurried through the ever-building thunderheads just a few leagues off the bow of the Vermouth. The boat rocked from side to side as the waves thrashed at its planks. The sailors scurried to follow their captain's orders.

"Shorten the sails you swine! We're changing tack!" The scarlet-haired captain's orders barely heard over the roar of the wind. The clash of the thunder was quickening, the space between them and the tempest closing fast. The sailors were white and green with fear and nausea and scurried to follow their hot-blooded captains orders. " I don't give a Hurrock's arse what we're supposed to do, I ain't risking my neck or my vessel for a sightseeing explorer mage and his trashy talk son!" She hung onto the wheel with a death grip, her knuckles glaring white against her chapped red hands.

" Trail the warps boys, and ready yourselves to heave to, the Black God's coming to tea!"

" SIRS!" The first mate, Chills, burst into Numair and Garian's cabin. Garian jumped, his eyes wide and his hair matted. Numair remained in his sitting position, deep in a spell. The only sign he had heard the man enter was a quick flick of his eyes and a spasm on his brow that lasted mere seconds. The air around him was devoid of movement and crackled like frozen cloth. The first mate blanched and swallowed hard at the powerful feeling exuded from the elder mage. He knew between the skill of the captain and the magical strength of Numair the crew may well survive the upheaval of the seas. That didn't spare him the task of explaining the danger to the cabins occupants.

"Ah... Sirs, we've got a nasty storm headin' towards us from the west and the Cap'n has ordered us to head back towards Carthak. We've shortened sail and changed tack and Cap'ns considering heaving to and letting the storm carry us whichever direction is necessary. She said if its gets worse than worse can get, she'll give the order for lying ahull." Numair blinked, his knowledge of ship mumbo-jumbo apparent on his face. Chills sighed. " We partially furled the sails and changed our course to out run the storm to no avail and the captain just positioned the ship according to wind and wave direction to ready ourselves for the onslaught, but is seriously considering lashing down the tiller, taking in the sails completely and battening down the hatches." The first mate stared at the cracks between the flooring. "If that happens, she's asking ye to get in the cargo hold and pray to Mithros we survive this."

:THE STEPPING STONE ISLANDS:

Trisana wiped the sleep from her eyes, a yawn easing at the corners of her mouth. Her mind was hazy from the rest and her muscles ached from lying on the cold flagstone floor. Her mind wandered through the shifting air currents and changing breezes. She let her thoughts follow them as her physical self eased in a more comfortable position on the hard watchtower floor. They followed a sharp gale to the west as it wound into the storm system she had chased off earlier. It churned up the seas, tossing a lone craft about like paper in the wind. A lone craft...

"DAMNITT!" Tris's eyes shot open, and she leapt to her feet. She'd gotten someone involved. And the puppy like storm had shifted into one of almost hurricane-like proportions as it drifted to warmer waters. Her mind shot out like an arrow from a bow, streaking through the winds to strike at the center of the storm. She could feel the vessel tossed about now, as wind shifted around it, and the persons within. She could feel the twisting pull of magic, as it tried vainly to combat the weather. She gasped at the sheer magnitude of power. This sharp intake of breath broke her concentration and her mind came back to her physical form. She ran to the side of the tower and focused her power. She drew a breeze, connected to the air currents joining the storm, and strained her sight. An image flickered and sprang to life on the wind, and she saw ship again. This time, though it was not a silhouette created by shifting air currents. The drama of the raging sea and tearing winds driving it back and forth burned itself into her mind. She removed her spectacles and sharpened her sight, and proceeded to scream with agony. The blazing light was like staring at the sun. It burned her eyes and left spots dancing before them. A smaller blaze, like a dwarf star next to the blazing sun, shone as well. The power had no familiar tinge to it either. It wasn't a Circle dedicate, and it was NOT one of her adopted siblings. She could scarcely believe someone could sustain that amount of magical power and live.

Reality came back to her, and anger tore through her body. She grasped the storm, as one might a raging cat by the fur of it neck and tore it. She shredded the winds apart from each other, and forced them under her command. She had been overconfident of her ability to contain the rage of the adolescent tempest and now she was facing it fully-grown and angry. It pushed on her, like walls closing in on her mind, clamping down on her power. She snarled at it and tore down those walls of force using the mage kit woven into her coppery locks. She drew power she had stored from a thick braid on the top of her head. There she had trapped an icy gale she had studied in Namorn, while her siblings and herself 'visited' the Empress. She used it now, to tear through the heated air and winds. The dry icy gale dispersed the tropical storm, churning it into several small thunderstorms and gales. These she shredded and spread out. Like Sandry would pick apart a matted piece of wool, Tris ravaged the Storm. She also had the foresight to gather its power and stash it the braid she had stored the Namorn gale. That particular wind had been used up in the scramble she had with the tumbling storm system.

She sank onto the cold stone of the watchtower. She was haggard and weakened from the fight, but she had only paused for a breather. She straightened and drew on the winds again, seeking out the vessel. She watched as the crew scrambled from out of the hold and the fiery captain unlashed the wheel and conferred with a tall, gangly man. She knew, from her smarting eyes, he was the source of the blaze. She had jammed her spectacles back on, preferring not to blind herself with his brilliance. She drew on a second wind, so she could hear the heated conversation the captain was having with the powerful mage.

: THE VERMOUTH:

" I don't care that we survived anyways Master Salmalin, but we are not investigating further!" The fiery redhead captain shrieked at him. "Unknown power or not, we are not exploring whoever drove that storm away I DO NOT CARE! What I DO care about is whether or not I can get this ship into a harbor before it falls apart around my ears!"

"I assure you Captain Misket, that will not happen. The protective spells my son's working will counter any damages the ship has had. Now turn the vessel about!" Numair spoke with authority and power, his words laced with traces of power. He had exhausted himself trying to battle the storm and after, as he as he tried to pinpoint the amazing power that had shredded the angry tempest. He was drained but not so much he couldn't argue with a hotheaded ships captain. He opened his mouth to add something more to his debate when he felt the mage's power return. As if hands had deftly wrapped around the masts and pulled -ever so gently- the ship turned smoothly. Then wind buffeted the sails and the vessel gained speed, shooting over the waves like a torpedo, towards the source of the power.

Numair blanched and stared at the stiff, shocked, ship's captain.

"I do believe the decision has been made for us Ms. Misket."

And several miles away, on a tiny island populated by sheep and drenched in rain, a redheaded young woman grinned.

AN: hope ye like! REVIEW !


	3. Chapter 3: Storm Wrecked Arrival

AN: A big thanks to all my readers, but a special shout out to those who bothered to review at least ONE chapter so far. This is for Kate of Carlay, Tasha642, IWOBYD, TheSilverWarrior, the knights who until recently said Ni, and Kiley 1 09. I was surprised at the variety of countries viewing my story so far. I've got readers from the the USA, Canada, the UK and ( this one surprised me the most) Australia! WOW!

OH, By the way I DON'T OWN ANYPLACE,THING, OR PERSON REFERRED TO IN ANY OF TAMORA PIERCES BOOKS.

Other things you don't recognize, like the Vermouth and its captain, and Garian, are mine.

now, COMMENCE STORY!

Garian leaned over the side of the Vermouth and clutched the rail tightly

Garian leaned over the side of the Vermouth and clutched the rail tightly. His throat burned from constant nausea and his stomach protested violently. It had been three days now, and the ship had kept its course, rocketing violently through the waters. His father and himself had probed the magic surrounding the vessel, probing for the mage who was responsible for their new heading. Both opened their eyes to find a miniature raincloud , riddling with miniature lightning bolts hovering inches from their noses. But they had reached out far enough to sense that whoever it was seemed to be filled with constant , unending energy. It was almost as if the mage's magic was interconnected with the energy around them. As if the mysterious person drew on the magic inside of a thing, and not raw magic itself. It seemed very similar to his mothers wild magic.

Thinking of his mother and far he was from home his eyes drifted, finally settling on his father's creased face. His brow was furrowed with concentration, and filmy with sweat. Garian opened his mouth to form a question and felt the little remainder of his lunch travel hurriedly up his throat. As he wiped his mouth afterwards, he decided that despite how lovely the ship's cook was at making stew, it didn't do her justice the second time round.

Numair stroked his temples, his thoughts brooding like storm clouds. He felt stretched, like a taut rope, frayed and about to break. He had nearly exhausted himself tying to probe the mage, and her surrounding area, but he could barely get through. He/she seemed to have made a barrier around her/his mind, that crackled like lightning, but had the deterring effects of a strong northern wind. And all he picked up from where he/she inhabited was the cloying smell of fresh earth, the musky scent of drenched wool and a feeling of all around dampness.

: THE STEPPING STONE ISLANDS:

Tris was drained. There were no other words for how completely empty she felt. He had lost count of how many miles there were between her and the storm wrecked vessel. Many times she had felt both the blazing man, Master Salmalin, the captain had called him, and his son, creep towards her, testing both her strength and probing for her mind. She had flicked two pockets of air, turning them dense and heavy with water and lightning and drifted them in front of the meditating men. She had practiced this on Briar many times, often after the word "Coppercurls" had arisen in conversation and, she believed, had perfected it to almost an art.

She felt her mind started to drift and her magic begin to unwind, and shook herself. She took a deep breathe and sunk into focus again, her mental self swirling down her breeze towards the vessel, counting the distance as she swirled through the heavens, the gray of dawn lightening the sky. She gasped, opening her eyes, her mental self shooting back to her body. Her eyes shot to the ocean, the black horizon.

A small black shape, growing in size, rocketed towards the inlet.

Her lured guests had arrived.

Mentally, She gasped, then turned her eyes to emelan, to winding circle and shouted.

_BRIAR, DAJA, SANDRY!_ She felt her siblings jump at her call, before clamoring in her mind. _I NEED TO YOU TO LISTEN TO ME! Get to the wall, I'll explain everything on the way._

: WINDING CIRCLE:

Briar shot out of the garden, charging towards the wall. Daja met him halfway, still smelling of soot, a streak of ash dusting her cheekbones. Sandry was already on the steps, her hair in billowing waves behind her. The three all joined hands, like they had in their student years and stared out at the harbourmouth, at a battered ship closing in.

AN: I know its short, but my grandmother broke her hip, and I had to go to Ontario to help . I wanted to update as soon as I could, so thats why the length is what it is.

Ps: please note school starts soon, and yes, I am unlucky and am still a student, so updates may be later than usual. Sorry for any delays. PLEASE REVIEW!

thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4: Stormy Greetings

AN: WOAH. Sorry this took so long to get up. Its been almost a month hasn't it bowing GOMENOSAI! for non japanesse speaking people- SORRY!!

I can't even begin yo name all the wonderful people who have reviewed. (you know who you are- I most likely wrote you back) And to all those currently reading this HUGGLES I know its shortish- I had to lengthen it actually- I've been ridiculed for my cliffhangers before, and I know this ends with one but PLEASE forgive me.

Now I'm going to stop my nonsensical ramblings, and let you read this story. OH, and for the record I DO NOT OWN ANYTHING FROM ANY OF TAMORA PIERCES WORKS. Or anything else important.

:THE STEPPING STONE ISLANDS:

Tris raced through the waters, closing in on Summersea. Her small one-man sailboat, The Tempest, was fed from the storm that had ravaged the Vermouth. It shredded a path through the waves, Tris hanging by her ankles off the edge, hiking for all she was worth. As she approached the docks, she leaped out of the boat and pressed a silver astrel in a boy's hand, asking him to tie up for her, as she raced towards where the battered ship was tying up.

:THE VERMOUTH:

The crew finished tying up, and the captain went to register the boat with the harbormaster. Numair stared out at the ocean. He could sense the mage nearby, and closing the distance with astonishing speed. He tried to concentrate, but the exhaustion from his magical draining, and the thrilling trip had left his mind woozy and unfocused. Garian noticed this and grabbed his dad by the arm, leading him to the gangplank.

"Dad, we so need to find you a proper bed. I may be old, but you're still giant sized, and I don't think I could carry you."

Numair smiled weakly and straightened. He stretched, and yawned.

"Alright, Alright. At least let me walk by myself, I have my dignity you know." Looking at Garian, so glad to be on solid ground again, he grinned wider. "On with you. We've discovered a new country- I don't want you to spend it with your old man. Shoo." Garian Punches the air, hugs his dad and runs down the gangplank. Numair calls after him.

"Don't forget to look for that mage! They must be around here somewhere."

Garian waves at his dad, but as he turns he stumbles, his legs still wobbly from the sea. He tries to get his feet under him again, but the wooden planks of the dock are slippery with seawater, and he continues to fall. Then an arm scoops him up, holding him steady as he sways, still bent over. His face goes bright red and he peeks up through his lashes, expecting to see a guffawing sailor laughing at him. Instead, a broad shouldered girl with fiery braided hair and clear, alert eyes smiles calmly at him. He blushes even more, and straightens. He tops her by a head, so now she's then one looking up at him.

" Umn.. I'm sorry about that.." Garian winces at his pitiful excuse. He was so not going to live this down. He looks down to see the girl smirking, her gaze amused but thoughtful.

" That's perfectly alright. It's my fault you're like this already. " Garian stared blankly at the girl. "Nice to meet you Garian, Sorry about the rough trip." Trisana chuckles softly. " Although I must admit, you're taller than you seemed."

insert unhealthy awkward pause + obligatory crickets."

"..." ... "HOLY CRAP!" Garian stared dumbly down at her. His eyes jumped out of his skull. Tris was holding her sides now, trying to keep her clam visage, tears of laughter threatening to roll down her cheeks. "Y-you're not SERIOUS. I- You-we. TRICKSTER GODS THIS IS CONFUSING!".

Numair rushes as fast as his weak legs can carry him down the gangplank.

"Garian! Garian what's wrong?" He puffs between words. " What happened?"

Garian turns, white faced, to his father and points to the stocky girl in front of him.

" Found her." His voice trembles with shock. " She- She said she's sorry."

Numair looks back and forth from his son to the girl. His eyebrows shoot up, his eyes bug out. His hand shakes as he extends it to the girl. He pats her on the shoulder.

"Do you know where we can find somewhere to sit? My son seems to be suffering from shock, and I need a decent meal to eat."

:EMELAN:

Daja, Briar and Sandry burst into the tavern, red faced and gasping. Briar placed his hands on his knees and bent over, chest heaving. His voice, deep and honey like, had an almost frail quality. He gasped between words.

" Never...again. I'm... never...ever running.. that far...even... if copper curls... is dying." Sandry just leaned on Daja, who clung to her staff like a drowning man does to a piece of driftwood. They both nodded weakly.

" Oh, is that really what you think?" Trisana turned, a mug of tea in her hands. The three friends turn her way. The redheaded girl was crammed into a corner booth, two guys sandwiched in beside her, heads bent, slurping up their steaming soup as if they were expecting a very long, painful famine.

"You sure you don't want to know who I dragged you down here to meet?" Her voice was shaking with excitement. " HMMM?"

Briar whipped his head up. "Y-you mean..." Trisana nods briefly.

The two men sitting beside her raise their heads from their busy soup slurping and stare at the young adults. Soup dribbles from down from their chins. The younger one grins, the older one wiping his face.

"Hello. You have wonderful soup here."

AN: whacking head against wall. Please forgive me- Ihave cliffhanitiniigertess ( cliffhanger disease)

And who can tell me where the siblings are living after WOTE? It's one of the few books of Tamoras I don't have, and I'm too lazy right now to run down to the library to check. I'LL OWE YOU ONE if you can tell me!!

THANKS FOR READING!!


	5. Chapter 5: Colliding Storms

AN: *kneeling* GOMENOSAIGOMENOSAIGOMENOSAIKILLMENOW! I SO SORRY! I COULD DIIIIIIIE! Wrking on chapter RIGHT now, to make up for shortiest chapter ever. THis is so I won't get stampeded by trampliong hordes of angry reader. (do I have any at all anymore? *sniffle* ) Thank you for being your awesome selfs and npt pestering me for next chappies or anything. NO Tamora Pierce charas or places or anything belongs to me. Just things you don't recognize ( liek SSI has sheep, Garian, Vermouth , tavern etc. etc)

::EMELAN::

Numair sat back against his chair, his eyes closed like a contented cat. Garian seemed to be dazed, his head leaning to one side, a Cheshire grin stretching across his face.

" I don't know about you," the young mage said, " but personally, 9 bowls of chowder has got to be a record." His father just mumbled, lost in a state of utter bliss. Garian settled further down in his seat, eyes closing. " You know, I could really learn to like it here."

Briar just stared at the young man, mouth hanging open. "I've seen starving soldiers who couldn't eat that much at once, never mind that fast. What are you? Some sort of bear? " The young mage simply smiled even wider and shook his head slowly and gently.

Sandry smiled knowingly at Briar and Garian." Great. At least no he won't have to come to us with his guy troubles." Daja nodded sympathetically. Tris smiled, happy that things were going so well. Sandry turned to Numair, and became slightly more serious. "Sir, do you have a delegation from your country? Any ambassador or delegate? My Uncle and I would like to set up diplomatic discussions with your monarchs as soon as possible." Numair straightened, had to mull things over a bit than broke out laughing. " Hah! Of course! How could I forget! Yes, yes we've brought someone of high importance in case we made such a discovery."

Turning to Tris, he smiled kindly, his eyes snapping mischievously. " You and her would probably get along very well." Sandry got to her feet, and brushed down her skirts. A stray thread wrapped itself around her finger before she shooed it back in its place. Numair logged this in with the strange magic he had felt through the whole process. He was sure all of the young adults had great magical power, but it felt different. As if it was speaking in a different language than his own.

"Sir," said Sandry, "if you have representation from your country, I would like to meet them at once, in order to set up diplomatic relations as quickly and efficiently as possible." Daja, Tris and Briar all rolled their eyes at her noble airs. Numair simply raised his eyebrows. " That would work better if you had a bit more nose, " at which point the embarrassed thread mage was assaulted by laughter from her compatriots, "and I doubt that would be the smartest course of action, as she is most likely still upchucking."

:: Vermouth::

Alanna the Lioness leaned on the rail, her skin a ghastly gray-green pallor. Her tunic and legging were stained unflattering colours, and her copper curls were thick and greasy with sweat and other... unpleasant liquids.

" Stupid mage. Where'd he get off to now?"

AN: THANK YOU FOR READING! please review. Feel free to flame me for belatedness. I deserve it.

I have cliffhangerism, I knoes. sorries!

*sniffling* forgive me for being so horrible?

PS: thank you for people who spotted my mistakes! I was in such a hurry to get this up I was stupid. IS now updated, and fixed!


	6. Chapter 6: Treading on Storms

AN: I FINALLY GOT A CHAPPIE UP! AND I WASN'T TWO MONTHS BEHIND! *is happy about self*

As promised, a longer chappie this time. ( I know its not super huge, but I wanted it up so you readers wouldn't kill me!) And the end's not quite so cliffhangerey ( new word) as my others. I think. I fixed my BIGOO errors in the last piece. So now you can read it, and not scowl at my stupidity and careless checking. My editors? You know who you are. And Australia and New Zealand move over. You guys are awesome readers but the wierdest places are reading my story from are currently: 1: Phillipines ( have someone from philli? OMG who ARE you?) 2: Singapore ( Another WOW!) and 3: Bermuda! ( I waaant to go there just.. maybe not the triangle...(but maybe anyways!!)) BUt I still love you Aussies and Kiwis. And my European readers are awesome! Reviewers, you are the bestest. Evar. NO TAMORA PIERCE STUFF BELONGS TA MOI! Anything you don't recognize does so hands off!

::EMELAN::

After a quick explanation of Alanna's...condition... the groups of mages, now numbered six, decided that Briar, Sandry and Daja would escort the foreigners to the Duke's Citadel. (By cart this time. Briar said if they wanted to walk, they could bloody well go on their own.) Meanwhile, Tris would rendezvous down at the docks with Allana, and inform her of the current situation and extend the diplomatic invitation to her, while ,of course, checking on how she's doing.

::VERMOUTH::

Alanna sat down, hard , on the deck and leaned her head against the wooden rail, cursing the hot summer winds, making her swelter and parching her acid-burnt throat, and giving rise to the most unpleasant smells. She gazed up at the sea wall, where people bustled and hustled above the busy shifting of the dock.

" Why does everyone have to move so quickly?" she gurgled, as the people swarm before her cloudy eyes, like rushing coloured blobs, of bright Traders and their staffs, the extravagant riches of embarking and disembarking merchants, and the bright whites of the sailors light cotton shirts, suited for warm windy weather.

On top of the sea wall, Tris had the same view, only looking downwards. Trying to reach the stairs down to the docks she elbowed and shoved and wriggled her plump frame towards the stone steps. As she pushed by one rather indignant trader, she caught the sight of a stumbling, racing, rather large blur out of the corner of her eye. Turning she leapt back as a rather large horse skidded over the cobbles and tumbled in front of the steps. Cursing her bad luck, she shielded her eyes as she looked for another way down. There was another pair of steps at the other end of the docks, but it was a long walk, and she was already tired from her exuberant jog from the inn. Wiping one sweaty hand across her brow she glanced down at the tattered ship below, and the broad, open deck, free of cargo.

" Oooh, I'm going to hate myself for this later." She grumbled to herself as she slithered closer to the wall's edge, already gathering her winds. She had been playing with this for some time, but she still hated the stares. " Forget the people Trisana, they are not there." And she stepped the last step to the edge. "Right. Not there."

Alanna was still grumbling bad-temperedly at the still bustling passerby, and tried yelling at the wagon driver who had crashed, sending a salvo of throbs through her skull. She snarled and snapped at yelling sailors, and rolled her eyes in pain when a military vessel sounded off. Rubbing her aching temples she turned her eyes to the heavens when... things slowed. People slowly quieted, and slowed, then stood still and silent. Smiling, Alanna croaked a harsh throated, "Its about time!" before directing her attention towards what they were so aptly staring at. And stopped barking. And let her jaw drop, and her eyes bulge, and her brows raise. As a slightly plump, slightly peeved, spectacled redheaded young lass walked down from the wall, towards her.

Walked down on the air. Little swirling pockets of air served as cushion shaped steps, and gave the redhead a little bounce as she trod, giving her a small skip in her step. As she landed gently on the deck and shooed the air-steps away she turned, cheeks red. " Hello. Umn. Sir Knight Alanna? I carry tidings from your party and ask that you keep company at Duke Vedri's estate tonight to go through proper diplomatic negotiations."

Alanna gaped, like a rather large fish, with purple eyes. Clutching her wrist she sent a small bead of power into it, shocking herself.

"Ow!" Shaking her hand, she blinked. And blinked again. " Mithros' beard. I must be sicker than I thought." looking closely at Tris she squinted her purple eyes. You're not that trickster god that my husband knows are you?"

"Umn. No Ma'am. Lady. Sir? Umn. My name's Tris."

AN: Hope ya enjoyed. Will start working on another. And may start second story soon, but will stil continue Thunder, promies. ( I JUST HAVE AN IDEA THAT WON'T GO AWAAAAY!)

Please Review!

Onegai !


	7. Chapter 7: Greeting a Storm

AN: SO SORRY this took so long to get up! Spring break ( death valley wooticuss), judo, choir, homework and social time with friends plus easter with family kinda held me back. Here is though, Chappie 7! BTW YOU GUYS ARE THE BESTEST! Reviewers= the most amazing fans a writer could ever have! LOVE YOU TO PIECES!

:: DUKE'S CITADEL::

Garian woke, as a particularly stubborn cobble jostled a wheel of the cart, and his head knocked soundly on the wooden side. Struggling to a sitting position, he rubbed the back of his head drowsily, feeling a small raise already forming under his hair.

"Trickster Gods, just what I need. More pain on top of pain." He realized the truth of his statement when he stretched out his legs and they jerked and twitched with painful cramps. One of the young-looking mages, the young man with the stubble darkening his burnished brown skin, laughed harshly.

" Its just as well. We'll be there any minute now." The handsome lad grinned widely. "And good for it too. I'm famished."

Sandry turned at Briar's remark and shook her glossy curls. " Ah Briar, its always food with you. And women. And plants. Hmmm. you're more complicated then I thought." Briar glared teasingly, and Daja laughed in their heads.

Be careful, he'll start remarking on how he is infatuated with pottery or some such foolishness next.

Hey! Its mosaics! If you're going to insult me do it properly.

At that, the three friends laughed aloud, making their tired and faintly cross guest even more confused.

His father on the other hand, had only the most thoughtful, intrigued look on his lined face.

'Oh dear.' thought Garian sadly 'This never turns out right.'

~: LATER THAT NIGHT:~

Alanna and Tris dropped, quite literally out of the carriage. The redheads leaned on each other for support and wobbled towards the front door.

"I do believe the driver hit every available bump there was on that bloody road." Alanna croaked tiredly. "Hear, Hear" Tris answered her eyes seemingly as heavy as the cobbles at her feet. It had been a long, hot day. And the humid night air had plastered the only free strands of hair she had to the nape of her neck and the apples of her cheeks. Alanna looked the same. Only greener, and older, and angrier.

Of course Tris became almost as angry as Alanna, certainly quite annoyed, when her rather spirited, much more fresh looking, lively adoptive sister Sandry simply pranced down the stairs to greet them, with a large smile plastered across her face.

"Tris! Sir Alanna! How wonderful you made it before dark. We were just going to send someone to look for you when your ride drove up." Alanna looked up groggily from her inspection of the round stones at her feet to glare at the happy-go-lucky young woman.

"Miss Sandrilene Fa Toren?"Alanna growled. Sandry nodded looking slightly calmer. "Your sister informs me that you dragged me here for the rather painstakingly boring process of exchanging diplomatic greetings that mean absolutely nothing to a man I haven't even met. And I will gladly inform you that this exchanging of nonsensical diplomacy can bloody well wait 'til morning when I have even half a mind to think with. Excuse me." Sandry blanched and turned to Tris. "Oh god. Another you."

Sandry pointed out the footman who was to show Alanna to her rooms before prancing up beside the exhausted Trisana as she trudged up to her own chambers, that she shared with Sandry when she stayed here.

" Tris? Tris? Are you alright?" All Sandry got in response was a dark glare and a 'humph' noise. " Well... I thought you might want to know about the feast in two days time." That stopped Tris dead. " You know, to welcome the foreigners?" Tris turned. " And ... Well you haven't got a thing to wear and..."

Tris blanched. " OH NO" Shaking her head the tired but firm redhead backed up and away from her foster sister. "No, no, no, NO! Sandry I am NOT, I repeat NOT, going to any social function, ball, welcoming whatever you call it! EVER. At all! NO way are you getting me at a ball! No way, no how, not ever." Shaking her tired, aching head the redhead stalked off, alone, to her room. Sandry stood behind shaking her head in mirth.

" Ah well. She'll change her mind. Once she sees the dress she'll understand." Narrowing her eyes, Sandry thought aloud, " She will or I will DRAG her there."

AN: PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! !! I would love it if you do. ( PS: PLZ tell me if chime is still with tris, I think she is, but not quite sure as I don't own WOTE!)


	8. Chapter 8: Beautific Storm

AN: -kneeling on hands and knees- I'm so sorry! Between being grounded for two weeks ( not even allowed to write stories) Getting my mark in English up from a C to an A ( not my fault my teacher lost a test of mine and the sub didn't tell me when stuff was due) havig exams ( math and English. ugh) And getting ready to have cousins over and get an eye surgery the last while has been packed. Imma going to have another chapter up in at least two weeks OR DIE TRYING.

Thank you all for actually sticking with me and thanks especially to Yreva13 for reminding me that I'm WAY behind schedule ^^.

Without further ado- chapter 8!

-MOQ

~:NIGHT OF THE FEAST:~

::DUKE'S CITADEL::

Alanna the Lioness clamped her black pearl earbobs in place, ran a boar bristle brush through her short-cropped fiery hair and secured her sword at her hip. She smiled confidently at herself in the mirror. Her tunic, dark sapphire velvet, hung all the way to her knees. Her shirt, long sleeved white silk, was embroidered with small sprigs of cream-coloured leaves. Her breeches were wide-legged and long, black as night. Her hair was secured with a pin, the golden lioness of her crest, with a single ruby between its front paws. Her crest was pinned to her tunic front and winked and shone from a day's polishing. Alanna nodded briskly at her reflection then turned on her heel, and swept through the open door, heading to the stairs leading to the small ballroom.

Briar and Sandry were already there, Briar escorting his foster sister. Sandry was brilliant, as usual, in a marvelous gown of her own design. The bodice was cream, and trimmed with golden braid. The skirt was full and wide, green silk. It was sleeveless, but she wore gloves of white silk. One hand sported a wide gold band set with a bright jade stone, and at her neck glimmered a string of pearls, from which hung a single emerald. She also wore her mage amulet under the pearl string. Her hair cascaded down her back in shimmering waves.

Briar was done up in a dark crimson tunic, that was becoming for his dark complexion and roguish charm. It was embroidered with swirling vines of similar colour crimson, and trimmed with dark gold braid. His shirt was cream like Alanna's, with wide full sleeves and gold cufflinks, inset with small gold briar-leaves, a present from Tris in Midsummer. He wore breeches of a dark tan, slightly more golden than his tan skin, and his shoes were of soft deer-hide. A single ruby earbob twinkled on his right ear. His tattooed hands bloomed red and gold fire flowers. His grumblings were few, he had apparently already exhausted his arguments against the "moneybag frivolity" that he was wearing. His mage amulet hung shimmering from his neck. The doors opened and they were swept away down the stairs to the ballroom before Alanna reached them. She smoothed out the few wrinkles in her tunic as she waited for Daja.

The dark-skinned girl came at a fast trot down the stairs from her chambers. Her breeches were wide, and looked like skirts when she stood still. they were of a deep gold, interwoven with a shimmering apricot. Her tunic was long, and deep sun-gold, and trimmed with a thin black braid. Her sleeves were full and wide and her cufflinks were gold and inset with shimmering topaz flames. She, like her brother and sister, wore her mage amulet at her neck. Her thin braids were done up and shone with a multitude of red and gold clips. She carried her staff and stopped two feet away from Alanna, only slightly panting.

" Briar and Sandry already gone down then?" Asked the smith-mage. Allana nodded the affirmative and peeked around Daja's shoulder as Garian jogged up.

Garian was done up in a similar colour tunic to Alanna, though he sported hose instead of breeches, in a bright gold. His silk shirt was white, with billowing sleeves. His cufflinks were two obsidian stones, polished to ebony brilliance. He looked much better with his hair washed and combed in a devilish style, loose and wavy around his face. They could see what colour it was now, a deep chocolate hue, free from the salt flecks and dust and brine from the sea. His eyes flashed handsomely, a stunning stormy gray, with sharp black and white flecks. He had a single earbob, a simple gold disc inset with a sapphire. He slowed his trot to a walk as he reached the two women, and eventually stopped next to them.

" For once in my life I'm glad Mother made me pack court clothes. Otherwise I'd look like a mouse next to you two." Daja and Alanna grinned at his hopeless flattery.

" You think you're happy, wait 'til you see Sandry. She's been waiting months to get us into fancy garb. She had to pull the Duke's teeth to get him to make this a formal affair." Daja remarked frankly. Alanna grinned. The duke sounded like her husband George. He'd rather have a simple party with friends than be decked out in "foolish frivolous frippery" as he had called his last court appearance.

" _We_ look like mice compared to her finery. She looks ready to go to a royal ball in Corus, rather than just a diplomatic party." As her gaze drifted to a flash of diamond silk her, jaw dropped. "Mithros. Or you could just look behind you." Garian and Daja turned. His face took on a similar look as to one visited by a god, and hers turned into one of maternal pride.

Trisana was dressed in a spectacular chiffon and silk ballgown. The bodice, ice blue silk, shone below an expanse of porcelain skin. Her hair was still in its braids, but clipped with many glass flames of startling colours. Her skirt was wide, and hung with blue and white glass flames, hung so that they resembled raindrops. The bottom trimmed with ice-blue lace, of a pattern that resembled swirling clouds. Her gown had no sleeves, as was the current fashion, but her gloves were a robins egg blue, a bracelet of crystal lightning bolts graced one glove, a midsummer gift from Nico, and a ring of sterling silver inset with a small sapphire was on the gloved finger of the other hand. Like her foster siblings, she too had her mage amulet gracing her thin neck. And on her shoulder perched Chime, the same crystal hue as her gown.

Her face was a picture of puzzlement at everyone's expressions. As the footman turned only to stare at her too, she voiced her uncertainties.

"Garian? Daja? Alanna? What's wrong? Do I look odd?"

AN: I know I know another cliffhanger I'M ADDICTED THEM WHAT CAN I SAY!? I've got part of the ball chapter already written so hopefully it'll be up in two weeksor less. Hopefully having my little cousin over won't interfere. Afterall Imma kinda restricted after having a surgery in what summer stuff I can do . ^^

REVIEW AND YELL AT ME ABOUT THE STUFF I DID WRONG! ( i deserve it I know )

Ever late ~

MOQ


	9. Chapter 9: Shocking Storm

AN; KILL ME NOW! ( was grounded first cause company was over and was on too much, then was at muscial theatre camp and then had MORE company over, and had birthday and then went to Port Renfrew for 3 days) Are currently writing next chapter as soon as I finish writing this sad excuse

please review and flame me for the delay

or not

:(

-MoQ

::DUKE'S CITADEL::

Garian stood stock still for a moment, his eyes roving over the raving beauty before him. A broad grin eased slowly over his face. He waltzed over to Tris, snapped his heels together, bowed deeply as if to royalty and proffered his arm as his rose again. Tris laughed, a deep husky chuckle that sent shivers down Garian's spine, and his face reddened a shade as she placed a delicate hand on his wrist and smiled, her eyes glowing sharply. The glass dragon on her shoulder crooned and tinkled as it walked down her arm and up his. It rubbed its face along his neck and sat, curling its tail around itself. Garian laughed deeply as it tickled his chin as it moved its tail. He turned his smiling eyes to Tris, and spoke, his voice still warm with laughter.

" Shall we?" He nodded at the door, and the stunned footman, where small snatches of chatter could be heard drifting in. Tris smiled wryly back. " Sandry literally sewed this dress on me. I think that's noble for 'you are coming'." Garian laughed as the footman clumsily opened the door and announced them.

" Trisana Chandler, Weather Mage, and Garian Salmalin, son of Numair Salmalin, Black Robe Sorcerer and Veralidaine Salmalin the Wildmage." Tris cocked her head to the side and looked quizzically at Garian.

"Wildmage? I must admit that's a new one for me." Garian laughed cynically in response. " Yes, well living in the shadow of a black sorcerer is apparently not enough for me. I have to have a demigoddess for a mother too." Tris's eyes bugged out of her skull. Garian sighed. " Its a long story. I'll tell you later if you'd like. " Tris nodded, happy now that she had some interesting conversation to pursue.

Garian glanced wryly at her. " You're one to talk anyways. Weathermage? They don't do you justice. Trisana Chandler Stormwielder would be a better title." Trisana snorted at the frivolous remark. " Only dedicates have flowery names. I'm not sure I'm ready to swear my name to a temple. I've only just finished my magic studies at university. I think I'd like some roaming time before I settle down and have students." This time it was Garian's turn to look and stare at her. " You've finished university? How old are you?" Trisana shrugged. " I'm turning 21 in a few months. Why do you ask?" Garian shook his head. " I never would have guessed you were older than me. I'm only 19 years!"

Tris raised her eyebrows. "I'm not sure whether I should be flattered or not that you thought I was younger. Normally people think I'm older than my years. Especially when I start philosophical discussions about screening the insane to see if they actually are under the influences of their own yet-undiscovered magic's and on tra la la." She looked around her as they reached the ballroom's floor. "I must admit I prefer a heated discussion on the physcological effects of magic to waltzing around in several tons of silks pretending I like everybody who talks to me." she added in a wry tone, her mouth turning up into a "why-me?" smile. Garian chuckled in response.

Garian turned to the creature crooning on his shoulder. " Mind telling me how you came about this little fellow. I mean, my mother has a baby dragon she rescued, but I she's made of flesh and blood, not fragile glass and," he peered closer, "Lightning and Magic. Rather messy magic too. " Meanwhile Tris's chin was waggling on its hinges. " A DRAGON? A real LIVE dragon? Do they really breathe fir? What about aggression problems? Diet? Size? How intelligent is it? How? Why? HUH? " Garian lifted his arms in defense and winced. " Ack! One quesiton at a time. You talk about your little creation, I'll talk about Skysong." Tris nodded enthusiastically. Soon the two had their heads together and were involved in a back and forth rapid discussion.

Numair regarded their repartee cooly from across the room. Daja leaned against the wall next to him, shaking her head. " That lad of yours is brave. Hopefully he pulls his own in a conversation or his ear is going to be absoulutely ringing for days after listening to a Tris-rant. I pity him really. That girl goes after information and details like a starving dog after a rare steak." Numair laughed and cocked an eyebrow at her. " I was thinking the same thing, only reversed. "

Daja laughed deeply in response. " I also don't hope he falls in love with her. " Numair turned to her with an interested expression on his face. Daja backed off- laughing. " Not what your thinking. My taste follows...other directions. I just meant that Tris isn't the loving sort. Never gotten involved and doesn't look like she's about too." Numair cocked his eyebrows at her first remark, making Daja blush, and murmured, "thanks be praised " at the second.

" It'll be the first time then. Garian's known for ruffling more than one skirt at home, and normally the girls stick to him like flies to... " He thought about what he was going to say and grimaced " Honey." Daja laughed boomingly. "Ah well, can't pity him there. Need to say that isn't as much as a problem for me, but then again," she glanced a group of merchants. A girl standing between the head of the Jewelers guild and his Wife blushed furiously. "That might be just as well. " Numair smiled at her. " I think I would like to be friends Daja- if that's possible. " Daja nodded and returned the same smile. " I think I'd enjoy that Numair." Then she sailed over to the merchants group, and immediately started conversing.

Briar and Sandry were in their own separate groups of admirers, when Briar sent a surprised thought to Sandry. Tris looks - gods. What did you do to Coppercurls? I'm going to have to stop with that name if I don't want to be beaten to a pulp by a rampaging horde of her admirers. Sandry laughed in her head. Briar, she always looks that way. Just in a worse dress. You've never noticed. Briar snorted in disbelief and startled one of his companions as she regaled him with a story of her journey to Namorn. Sandry shook her head at him as she noticed the girl race off in a huff. She turned towards her admirers again and was laughing at a joke when she heard the crash as a large black object hurtled through the window. A horse. A flying horse. It coat was oily black; its eyes were hypnotic red and large bat wings extended above it. A man, his white blonde hair swinging low over his waist, raised his hand, glittering with fire.

" WHERE IS THE LIONESS?"

KILL ME AGAIN

cliffhanger I know. Sorry.

review, or not. Am writing again.

and BIIIIIG thank you to those who actually held faith in me and read this -hugglies for ALL- I lurv you!

and EXTRA HUGS OR REVIEWERS!-hugglies all ze reviewers-

thanky ^^

-MOQ


	10. Chapter 10: A Storm of Questions

AN: Well. I am officially dead over this I know. I took a hiatus without telling you guys.

I really had to re-assess my writing style. I'd complied some pretty serious critiques over this story and when I really looked back at it, I must admit I winced. Plot holes, bad character dialogue, (not so much that the words didn't fit the characters but awkward wording etc.) and, most common of all, problems with tense. Past, present, it all blurred together some how. So, I put the story on hold, fixed my plot, and developed my writing style. Or at least that's what I hope I accomplished. So, without further comment, I'll leave you with a new chapter, hopefully much better than my previous work.

Disclaimer: None of Tamora Pierce's characters , settings or books belong to me. My character's do however, so hands off.

The Lioness raced across the hall before the first screams began and nearly collided with Numair. His face was lined with worry, but still held that ironclad confidence that she trusted in.

" Numair. Situation. Who is he?" Alanna's words were curt, to the point. Her eyes burned with anger and determination. She wasn't about to let whomever it was scare her new found friends and get away with it.

" Hagen Hadensra." Numair grimaced. " Inar Hadensra's psychopathic bastard son." Numair growled and clutched his staff until his knuckles turned white. " I would really like to know how escaped prison though. He was held in a mage cell for Mithros' sake. I placed the wards on his prison cell! They would have held me! Something's not right here and I intend to find out what!" He turned his head, searching the crowd for his son.

"Already here Pa." Garian raced up to his father, Tris followed not far behind him. "Who is this maniac?" he asked angrily. " And how'd he get here from Tortall? I thought our was the only vessel that survived that storm." His eyes narrowed angrily.

" It was." Tris said behind him. " Yours was the only one in that part of the ocean, and believe me I checked. He must have arrived today or last night. For the record I doubt he would have needed a vessel, isn't he riding a flying horse-thing?"

Alanna shook her head. " Hurrocks can't fly that far without land. They'd need a ship to rest on. Maybe they arrived before us-" she started to say, but was cut off by Tris shaking her head.

" Anyone would have mentioned something this strange pretty early on. Flying horses are a myth here, not reality. As it is, I'm having trouble believing I'm awake."

" We'll just have to ask Mr. Girly-hair ourselves won't we?" quipped Briar when he raced up with Daja. " Sorry for the late arrival- the entire crowd's moving the other way."

The group looked around, not very surprised to see the ballroom almost completely devoid of guests. Only the guards, a pocketful of mages, themselves and the duke remained.

" Yes Briar, I do believe we shall." growled Numair. " And what in Mithros' name he's doing here." He raised his staff and barked out harsh words in a language that no one understood. Large chains appeared out of nowhere and bound the legs of the hurrock, dragging him downwards. The man jumped free, stalking forward, his face twisted with anger.

" Salmalin." he snarled in a thick Scanran accent. " I should have known. We heard the Lioness was on your little expedition but you, " he smiled crazily, his eyes lit with a psychotic glow. " you are even better."

Yelling loudly the Scanran mage threw the fire from his palms at Numair, his aim sloppy with his excitement. Numair reached out a hand to deflect it, only to stare as it hovered and flew towards Daja. He shouted in alarm, sure the girl would be badly burned. Instead, she cradled the fire in her palms and glared at Hagen.

" You pompous sod. You really tried to use such sloppy magic against us?" staring at Numair she raised her eyebrows. " Is this the all-powerful mage criminal you were telling us about? He's about as good at magic as a drunken goat."

Numair growled under his breathe. " It was more a question of the people trying to break him out that we were worried about, not him. His powers are actually painfully weak."

Hagen roared and swept a wave of fire at the whole group, only to have Daja suck it up again.

" You really don't learn do you?" She asked sarcastically. Flicking her fingers one by one, she sent little balls of fire to hover in a circle around his head. " You will answer our questions now, or my little friends here are going to move in closer."

Hagen began to sweat. His hands curled into fists and his eyes became even more crazed. " You'll never scare me girl. I have friends. Powerful friends. They let me come here to kill the Lioness, they gave me a hurrock. They told me I could kill as many people as I wanted. They'll save me. You'll see. You'll all die!" Cackling wildly to himself, he stared into space.

Briar sighed heavily. " Great. Looks like we'll get nothing from him. In that case..." Briar stormed up to the silver-haired freak, clasped his fists together and brought them down on his head. " We should probably put him out of his misery." The man sank to the ground as his eyes rolled up into his head.

" Briar!" scolded Tris, her hands on her hips, her eyes and voice disapproving.

" What?" Briar asked defensively. " I didn't kill him! I just put him to sleep for a bit. He was clearly not going to be of any help to us, the crazy, and he probably would have ended up hurting himself or us! Come on coppercurls!"

Numair glanced at the Lioness with a concerned look on his face. " This may have seemed easy but what I'm mostly worried about is who is he talking about." Sighing he pinched the bridge of his nose in thought. " I wish I could travel someday and not interrupt some plot against my life. It would be so relaxing. Well. Lets get him somewhere we can keep and eye on him and meet up later."

The duke rested a hand on Numair's shoulder, his face grim. " We'll meet in one of my conference rooms in an hour. I have a lot of questions."

AN: I know it's short but hopefully it's better written than my previous work. If not, please let me know. Comments and critiques are loved, and flaming will be met by sarcasm attacks , just FYI. Thanks to any old fans who are reading this, and a big welcome to new readers as well. I'm hoping to update every two weeks or so at least, so feel free to hit me over the head with blunt instruments should I not comply. Thanks.

MOQ


	11. Chapter 11: The Storm Explored

No excuses. Staying away from this story is just plain wrong and I shall keep writing it if it kills me. I do know my apologies for this lateness will probably not be forgiven, but, ah, well, I understand.

**Nothing from any of Tamora Pierce's works of fiction belong to me**. Any you do not recognize, Hagen and Garian for instance, are mine and should not be used by anyone BUT me.

The Duke shut the door of the small dark-paneled room and turned to its occupants. The Tortallan guests looked even more tired now than ever, and Numair and Alanna especially looked lost in dark thoughts.

"Now tell me what's going on. Clearly we have a problem here and if we don't want a riot on our hands you will tell me where this...man... comes from. What was his name again?"

"Hagen. Hagen Hadensra. Son of Inar Hadensra. Inar was a war criminal and mage who was an essential person in a war to overthrow the kingdom of Tortall. His almost godly talent for magic was, luckily, not passed on to his son, but he did generate a cult-like following before his demise."

The Duke nodded at Alanna in thanks before turning to Numair. " And why was he so happy to see you, exactly? He came looking for the Lady here, and ended up screaming at you instead."

Numair sighed deeply and bowed his head. " I killed his father. In fact, I exploded his father, to be precise. It's not really a secret. You can't hide a hole like that very easily."

Resting his elbows on the large oak table, he stroked the bright silver hair at his temples. "What worries me the most are these followers of his. They call themselves the Children of Wratha, an ancient god of war, long forgotten to most. They say his eyes were made of rubies that burned with fire when he was enraged. Inar Hadensra had a ruby eye. When the group discovered him they believed he was their god incarnate and worshipped the very ground he walked on." He paused and shook his head before continuing on.

"After his death it was believed they would immediately adopt the son as a figurehead and use him as an excuse to begin another assault on Tortall. For, after his death, their ideals had been shattered. In their minds, their god had deserted them, if he had ever existed at all. Unfortunately, they understand, quite deeply, how to maintain a hold of power over people. The leaders of the cult have obviously restored their disciple's beliefs. Or at least manipulated them into a new course of action.

He looked up now, his deep eyes tired and dark, and addressed the group huddled mournfully around the table.

"They are highly skilled at manipulating lesser minds. I believe a mage dwells at the heart of this matter. If they have brought him, or any of their other agents here as well as Hagen, we will have a panic on our hands in less than a few days."

Sandry turned to him then. " So is there nothing we can do about this? It would seem all you know about our enemy is that they idolized some mage long ago and are now plotting to attack your kingdom the same as before. Did you not know of this before?"

Alanna shook her head this time. " No, unfortunately most of the Children of Wratha live in small encampments in the very Northern reaches of Scanra. We briefly covered their lands in our talks yesterday I believe." The duke nodded in response.

"You did. The northern lands, correct? You talked about the recent war and these ...killing devices that were used."

Alanna bowed her head at him in agreement. " We pulled several of our key agents from that field after a few months had passed. The more Northern edge of Scanra is mostly tribes and hillmen, and normally not a threat to us. It would seem our... lack of foresight... is to blame here. After so much time has passed since the Immortals War with no news of the Children of Wratha, we had assumed they had simply disappeared and had been swallowed up in the course of time. It would seem we were mistaken."

" Our main goal now," remarked Alanna, " is to find out from Hagen how exactly he managed to get here on a Hurrock without water transport. It could be they landed days or weeks ago and you didn't hear of it but I find that unlikely. More likely is that they were following us before we got sucked into the storm and then followed the trail of power that Numair and Trisana left behind as we were dragged here. It would make sense of why they didn't attack us the first day we were here, when we off our guard and so tired out."

Tris made a positive noise in the back of her throat. " If they were on the outskirts of that storm they might have simply observed in which direction I pulled the ship, or if they have a mage as Numair suggests, he could have tracked the traces of Numair's power. They could have been days behind you, simply tracking him, when the storm hit, and followed you through. But that still doesn't explain how they got here so fast," she realized. Her mouth twitched into a frown. " How did they get here so quickly? Gods know I pulled you unnaturally across the Endless Sea."

The duke held up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I believe the magical debates should be left for later, after we gather more information from our rather unpleasant guest. For now, I suggest you get changed out of your finery and get some much-needed rest. If we have an inter-continental political struggle on our hands, you will want to get sleep while you can. I have a feeling it will be scarce in the coming days."

The party agreed in various levels of enthusiasm and rose, exiting the conference room in favor of warm beds. Trisana stayed behind, her chin cradled in her fingers, her elbows resting on the hard table. Garian paused on his way out of the door and walked around the table to stand beside her.

" Lost in thought?" he asked softly. Tris's eyes glanced up at him and away, a deep breath sagging out of her body like wind out of a sail. Chime, forgotten up until this point, made a similar hissing sound and dropped to the table, her delicate forefoot pawing gently at Tris's arm.

" I'm fine," she remarked, whether to the petite glass creature or to Garian, he couldn't say. " I'm just afraid that I might be the cause of this. If I hadn't dabbled stupidly in the weather you would never have been caught up in this." She turned her face up at him and grinned ruefully. " I feel like a child, caught with my hand too deep in the cookie jar." Sighing she held out her hand to Chime and rustled to her feet. She was headed for the door when Garian softly grabbed at her elbow.

"If you hadn't, we never would have met. To me that would have been worse than finding out a hundred plots against us." She turned then her bright eyes soft and kind. For the second time that evening he was struck by her beauty. Her large eyes were amplified by her spectacles, which hovered now on the tip of her nose.

"Thank you. I am glad to have met you too, Garian Salmalin of Tortall." She replied softly, those large eyes turned on his own.

He smiled and squeezed her elbow before opening and holding the door for her.

So short, I know.

Please R&R. Critiques welcome. Mindless dissing is not.

I love you if you read this.


	12. Chapter 12: A Returning Storm

Regular updates are part of my new year's resolutions this year. Thanks to Nomercy Sedia for letting me know I was missed. A rewritten version of each of the previous chapters will be updated soon, as they have pretty horrible mistakes in them. But I thought I would give you a little bit of a taste of what's to come first. So here ya go!

None of Tamora Pierce's works belong to me, all original characters and ideas: Garian Salmalin for example and the Children of Wratha, belong to me and should not be used.

Not far away from where the partygoers had been so rudely interrupted, a group of tall, lanky males crouched around a small, round table in the upper story of a darkened inn. A flickering lamp sat in the middle of the table, the only light in the crowded quarters.

"Do you think it so wise," asked the tallest man, his boots propped up on a nearby stool, " to send Hagen on his own? Who knows what might happen? He is an unpredictable element and in this sort of game..." His hands in his lap clenched hard, his knuckles whitening in the dark. " We can afford no wild cards." He spoke in a rich, flowing form of Scanran, with a grating accent that resounded about the room like the beating of a drum.

" Hagen is a tool, nothing more." came a snarl from a redheaded man in the corner. " His usefulness has run it's course and it was better put him to one last use before he was ... expired." The men all made noises of agreement in the back of their throats, and the few with drinks took large swallows, as if to toast his dark words.

" If they kill him," he explained slowly, " good for us, we get a martyr and they get nothing. If they interrogate him, we know exactly the stories he will feed them and if they throw him back at us, we get a returning hero and the knowledge of the faces of our enemy." Spreading his hands expressively, he grinned madly. " All in all, my children, it is a good night for all of us."

Sliding to his feet, he rested a black-gloved hand on the shoulder of the first speaker. " Get some rest. We have a big day tomorrow and you wouldn't want to miss it." Laughing darkly, he opened to door and was swallowed up in the darkness outside.

Trisana gazed out of the window of her room on Cheeseman Street. The gardens below bloomed in the bright sun of the new day. It had only been a day since the disastrous ball and she felt on edge, expecting the houses down the lane to burst into flames, or for the dragons and metal birds of the Tortallan kingdoms to swoop down and terrorize the people of Emelan.

Sighing she turned and sank downwards, her head resting against the windowsill. She stared at the embroidered hanging on her wall. It was the same one Sandry had gifted to her, so many years ago in Discipline. Sandry had asked her to take it down, let her make something new in its place, but Tris had refused. It represented more to her than anything she had acquired on her numerous travels. Except perhaps Chime and ...

Tris jumped to her feet. Today she was supposed to visit Glaki at Winding circle. Her young student had blossomed under the guidance of the Winding Circle teachers, but Tris visited often, as much as once a week, as her bond with the young girl had survived their separation. This visit would serve two purposes as Sandry had planned to bring the visitors to Winding Circle, along with their newly acquired Scanran prisoner and see if they could get any more answers from him with Niko and Moonstream's help.

Grabbing a book of prodigy child mages, which she had promised Glaki, Trisana ran down the stairs and called to her brother and sisters as she went. Soon Daja, Briar and Tris were on route to Winding Circle, with Sandry promising to follow quickly after she arranged transport for their new Tortallan allies and their sulky Tortallan prisoner.

Glakisa Irakory sat on the roof of Discipline Cottage, much as her idol said she used to in bygone days. Tris was late, as per usual, and Glaki passed the time watching the scuttling of clouds across the sky. She couldn't wait to talk to the girl she viewed as her older sister, and if she remember Now 11, Glakisa was considered much to curious and rambunctious for her own good, and often drove Rosethorn to wild rantings and Lark to subdued to silence. Peering over the edge of the roof, she could just make out three figures ambling towards the gardens. Shrieking with delight, as young girls are prone to, she quickly descended from the roof and went to inform Rose and Lark of the incoming visitors.

Briar fidgeted with his sleeves as they neared the cottage. " Oh stop fooling around chufflebrain," remarked Daja laughingly, " every time we come here you expect her to bite your head off over something or another, and has never yet had reason to, so stop worrying already." Briar scowled back at her in response.

" Being here makes me feel like a lad again, and that is one thing I do _not_ enjoy. You're lucky. Frostpine never threatened to skin you alive and feed you to the crows if you mixed up his tools." He shuddered mockingly. " I pity the young bleaters who have to live there. I'm not entirely sure how I survived without parting company with my head."

"No head? That would be a major improvement to your current state. In fact, I'm not sure you would notice if you were headless. I certainly wouldn't miss it." Tris grinned as Briar glared at her. He often made remarks about how he was glad to be out of Winding Circle, but she knew he missed it as keenly as they did. After 5 years, she had finally gotten used to their home at Cheeseman Street, and she had been there less than them, away for several years at Lightsbridge, only to return for holidays and breaks. She still missed the little cozy cottage though, and more especially, the people that owned it.

As she mused, a fluffy headed girl came tumbling out of the front door and running along the path towards her. Grinning Tris bent down slightly as the young girl drove into her arms. She missed her, and found Glaki a constant source of enjoyment. As the girl had aged, Tris found herself generating a larger sense of being old and mature. She wasn't entirely sure she enjoyed the feeling.

"Hey there Glaki. I brought that book I promised." Digging it out of her satchel, she passed it to the girl who squealed again and ran with just as much excitement back into the house. Tris rolled her eyes at that. Glakisa was at the age where anything was 'magical' or 'beautiful' and was used to her dramatic outbursts of energy.

Briar raised his eyebrows at her. " You taught that... creature? I find it hard to believe stodgy old Trisana taught that energy ball anything! I can just picture you as a miniature Rosethorn, crabby and snapping at her every move." Tris stuck her tongue out at him and remained silent. There had been a few snappy moments but her foster brother didn't need to know that. Briar's own ex-student was away, visiting a Namornese mage who apparently had studied the hearts of mountains. If she didn't know better, she bet he had his own Rosethorn moments with her as well.

Inside they greeted their foster mothers with hugs and smiles and much more squealing from Glaki. She hovered next to Tris and chattered away about what she had missed that week and wasn't she glad to see Glaki and was the book and good and where was Sandry exactly? Tris laughed at her and ruffled her fluffy hair. Lark raised an eyebrow however and gestured for them to sit down at the table.

" Where is Sandry? I haven't seen her for what seems like an age. You three without her, now that seems a little odd." Tris, Briar and Daja all shared similar looks of worry and apprehension, before pulling out a chair for her at the table.

" You might want to be the one to sit Lark, and Rosethorn as well. This may take awhile." As Glaki ran to get Rosethorn from her workshop, Lark sat down hard. She knew these young people and their words offered no comfort to her. If they were worried at all, she might as well be in a panic.

A little long of a chapter this time! Hope you like! R& R please. Critiques are appreciated, mindless dissing is not. I was pretty sure Glaki was a blonde, but I don't own a copy of shatterglass. Can someone let me know if I was correct in that? Thank you!

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